Interludes
by thievinghippo
Summary: "Life is a mosaic of pleasure and pain - grief is an interval between two moments of joy. Peace is the interlude between two wars." - Sri Sathya Sai Baba. A collection of swtor one-shots across all eight classes, in no particular order. Spoilers for all story lines.
1. Republic Trooper, Tatooine

Here you'll find one-shots for all eight classes and their romances. There will be spoilers for all eight classes. These stories are in no particular order, but before each one, I'll post the class and when about the one-shot takes place.

* * *

**Class: **Republic Trooper

**When: **Episode I, Tatooine

* * *

"I think that's everyone, sir," Jorgan said, peering out into the dust storm. "What do you think? Wait it out at the ship?"

Wynneth followed his gaze. She could still see the outlines of the buildings outside, but according to Galen, soon Anchorhead would disappear in a cloud of dust. Her shoulder throbbed a bit. One of these days she'd have to bite the bullet and have Dorne take a look. Stretching her arms behind her back, she said, "Be more trouble than it's worth. We've been running around all day. Might be nice to sit down for a bit."

"Works for me," Jorgan said. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Gonna run to the head."

She nodded and began the process of sitting down in heavy armor, always harder than it looked, even with a lighter variety that she preferred. Once she gently placed her assault rifle down on the ground next to her, Wynneth brought her knees up to her chest. Her eyelids felt like they had weights on them, but she would never consider closing her eyes in a place like Anchorhead. Not until Jorgan got back at least. Then perhaps she could take a quick nap.

Outside, the dust storm started to rage, leaving Wynneth glad that they decided not to venture to the next outpost. Who'd want to be out in that weather? She let out a snort of a laugh, thinking that the storm reflected her mood. Since when did she consider herself a warrior-poet?

Her thoughts almost immediately turned melancholy. Jorgan would disagree, she knew, but Wynneth had a hard time trying convince herself that their mission so far had been anything than a failure. Two members of the original Havoc squad dead. And she had a hard time believing that the rest would have a dissimilar fate.

Where did she go wrong? She had so many hopes pinned to this mission and now it felt harder than catching water in her palms.

"That's a dangerous look, rookie," Jorgan said.

Wynneth looked up and saw Jorgan holding two cups of coffee. "Oh stars, you're my hero," she said, reaching up for the coffee cup before Jorgan even had a chance to offer it to her.

He gave her a grin. "Who said one's for you?" Jorgan said, placing a cup in her hands. Even through her armored gloves she could feel the warmth of the cup. "Maybe I'm just really thirsty."

"No teasing your CO," Wynneth said, taking a sip. Perfect. Jorgan somehow managed to put in just the right amount of cream. "You are a lifesaver."

"All part of the job."

Wynneth sipped at her coffee while Jorgan maneuvered to sit down on the floor next to her, balancing his coffee without spilling a drop. "Could have held that for you," she said.

"I trust you with my life," Jorgan said seriously. He took a sip and closed his eyes. "Not with my coffee."

"That stings, Jorgan," Wynneth said, pleased to not think about the death and destruction they would leave behind on Tatooine. She didn't sign up for the army to cause death, she wanted to prevent it.

"There's that look again," Jorgan said, his voice softer than Wynneth ever remembered hearing before.

Her gauntlets kept her from feeling the warmth of the cup in her hands. Not that she needed extra warmth on Tatooine. She knew already she looked a mess, her hair matted and droplets of sweat trickling down her temple. "You must have thought I was an idiot."

Jorgan froze next to her, his coffee cup half way to his mouth. "Sir?"

"We're off duty, Jorgan. Cut the 'sir' crap."

After taking a sip, Jorgan leaned back his head so it rested against the cool tile. "Care to explain?"

"When I promised Kardan that I'd bring them back alive…" Wynneth trailed off, thinking of the tense meeting on Coruscant. "You must of thought I was so stupid." This time she did close her eyes, picturing the Needles and Fuse, dead, because she hadn't been smart enough, fast enough, strong enough.

Jorgan let out a low whistle. "You really want to know what I think?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Wynneth said. She turned her head to meet his gaze, wondering why his opinion was so damn important to her.

He looked right back at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, no pity, only understanding. "I thought it was naive to promise that," Jorgan said after a moment. "I get why you did. You truly believed that you could, rookie, and that's commendable. And up until we put a bullet in Needles' brain, you had me believing, too. But those kind of traitors…"

"Would never let themselves be captured alive," Wynneth finished. "So we kill them instead." Her toes curled, as if to ground her closer to the earth. "Sometimes I'm just really sick of death, Jorgan."

"Soldiers like you and me? We don't have the luxury of getting tired," Jorgan said, shaking his head. "We're the ones that take care of the dirty work so a fresh face recruit can believe they can make a difference."

"You just described me ten years ago," Wynneth said with a sigh, thinking how optimistic she was when she enlisted, thinking she would help rid the galaxy of the Empire and make things better for everyone. And then came the Outer Rim and she never looked at the galaxy with quite the same innocence.

"Ignore me," Jorgan said. "I'm Cathar, we tend towards the naturally pessimistic."

Wynneth bit her lip, thinking of her younger self. She wondered what her eighteen year old self would think of her now, the commander of Havoc squad with access to almost all the secrets the Republic had to offer. Eighteen year old Wynneth would be horrified of all the skeletons in the closet. Now, she simply hoped the closet was big and secure enough to hold them all. Somehow she doubted it. But that was for another day.

She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. Yes, she was older and wiser, than the eager ensign she had been, but that didn't mean she had to lose her optimism completely. They had another lead, on Alderaan. Maybe, just maybe they could bring someone, anyone, in alive. Wynneth knew Jorgan wanted them all dead, but she had made a promise. She owed it to her eighteen year old self to try to fulfill it, no matter what.

With a sigh, Wynneth brought out her datapad. Might as well catch up on some datawork while they were stuck here. Jorgan followed her lead and together, they waited for the dust to settle.


	2. Sith Warrior, Taris

**Class: **Sith Warrior

**When: **Taris

* * *

Maevry had to concentrate to keep her hands from shaking. She had been close to death before, but never like this. Never at the mercy of a computer.

General Minsk didn't stir from his stupor. "Is other one secure?" Maevry asked, looking down at Quinn, who handcuffed the man for transport.

"Yes, my lord," Quinn said, standing then straightening his uniform jacket.

Maevry didn't think she imagined the slight tremor in his voice. His usual unflappable demeanor seemed off kilter somewhat and Maevry understood he had been just as affected as she was. He must be. How else would he have ever said what he said?

_I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord._

And that was the crux of the problem. She _did_ know. She knew he cared about her a great deal. Every look, every word told her how much he cared about her. Yet he continued to deny his passion, holding everything back.

"I hear the evacuation squad," Quinn said, looking at the door entrance.

"Good," Maevry said, placing her hand on her lightsaber. She needed to feel its heft in her hands, to feel in control of something once again. "I want to see if there's been any news on the search for General Durant."

The squad came marching in and took over quickly, Quinn explaining what was to be done with Minsk to the squad leader. Together, she and Quinn left the room, him by her side instead of a few steps behind as was his custom.

The moment they turned the corner and were out of sight, Maevry let out a gasp of surprise as Quinn pushed her up against the wall, his hands at her waist.

_Finally,_ Maevry thought desperately, her entire body ready to cry out in triumph. Her fingers gripped the front of his uniform jacket, trying to bring him as close as possible. Stars, how she could drink him up right now.

Their eyes met, and Maevry sense an electricity between them. His gloved hand caressed her cheek and Maevry leaned into his touch. "My lord," he said.

His voice was low and thrilled Maevry to no end. She had never once heard those words from his lips sound more appealing. It took every effort not to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him madly. But for this, their first kiss, he must make the move. She had to be absolutely certain that this was something that he wanted as much as she did.

Before he could bring his lips to hers, Maevry's holocom beeped, using the emergency channel. Quinn stepped back at once, leaving Maevry bereft of his warmth and she cursed whoever it was on the other end.

Pierce. Of course.

She listened to the lieutenant carefully, sensing him through the Force. Pierce was a rare breed of soldier, completely committed to the cause. As she reached out, she also took a moment to evaluate Quinn.

That brief, shining flare of passion she felt from him had completely disappeared, leaving only the cool, calm presence she had grown used to by her side. She could feel him turning in on himself and away from her. To come so close, only to have it ripped away… Maevry wanted to stamp her foot in the frustration of it all.

The call ended and as Maevry put away her holocom, Quinn said, his voice brisk, "We best make haste to Lieutenant Pierce, my lord."

Maevry nodded. She was not about to let good soldiers die while she dealt with her love life. They could talk on the way. Spinning on her heel, she started to walk out of the chemical plant, hearing the surefooted step of Quinn right behind her.

She didn't speak until they were outside. Maevry took a deep breath, trying to think of what a beautiful world Taris must have been at some point. The sky above her filled with stars and even the humidity couldn't keep her from enjoying the night air.

"It's not far," Quinn said. "We can pick up two speeders at the next outpost for the remainder of the journey."

"If you say," Maevry said, starting to walk. She set a quick pace, not wanting to waste time. Almost a minute of silence passed before the words burst out. "Did you mean what you said?"

His shoulders tensed and she saw his hands curl into fists. He did not break stride, however. She would never expect him to. "Even if I did, I should not have said it."

Again the urge to put her hands on hips and stamp her foot overwhelmed her. She would not appear childish in front of Quinn. Not when she knew the difference in their ages already concerned him. "Why?" she asked through gritted teeth. "If that's how you truly feel…"

"We are in the middle of a mission, my lord," he said, looking resolutely ahead. "Surely now is not the most opportune time to discuss the matter."

She took a deep breath and let go of the tension riding in her shoulders. Quinn looked like he was spoiling for a fight. Perhaps that's what he wanted, an excuse to change his mind and shut himself away from her forever. Well, she was not about to give him one. Sounding perfectly calm, Maevry said, "You're right, of course, Captain."

His eyes widened a bit in shock and Maevry felt her lips twist into a smirk. _Not what you expected, Captain, was it?_

A comfortable silence fell between them as they entered the outpost. As Maevry sat down and started her speeder, she said, "Just as long as you realize, Captain, at that some point, we will be discussing the matter."

Maevry gave herself only a moment to appreciate the way his cheek's reddened and his sharp intake of breath before riding off.

They did have a mission to complete, after all.


	3. Sith Inquisitor, Taris

**Class: **Sith Inquisitor

**When: **Episode II, Taris

* * *

Revel had frequented many a cantina in his day. He'd been in classy ones, where all the unseemliness stayed neatly out of sight for the rich patrons. And he had been in bad ones, the type where spice flowed freely and offered to anyone.

His favorites, though, were the dives. Small hole in the walls, where a person could drink in peace and get some business done. Some of his best deals came from those types of places. But this cantina, with Imperial soldiers and Sith crawling all over the place, was like no cantina he had ever been in before.

Made his skin crawl, especially not having Denravi at his back. Revel threw back a shot of whiskey, wanting to laugh at the irony that he trusted a Sith more than anyone in the galaxy right now to have his six.

They had been supposed to meet at the cantina close to a half hour ago, but Denravi was nowhere to be seen. Probably got stopped by some Imperial, wanting a favor. Knowing her, Denravi would have some new task for them tomorrow on this hellhole of a world. After only one day, he absolutely hated Taris.

But he had to admit, he sort of respected that Denravi kept trying to help people. It had been years since Revel had given a thought to anyone other to himself and his crew. Not since his Republic days.

Speaking of, he'd probably have to tell her about those Republic days at some point. Not that it was her business or anything. But since they would hopefully continue this habit of sleeping together, it wouldn't hurt to give her a few details about his past.

Fingers slid across his shoulders and Revel smiled to himself. He turned, expecting to see Denravi, but instead found himself face to face with that damn Sith apprentice, Thana.

"Well, well, well," Thana said, her voice low. "I'm surprised your master let you out of her sight for even a moment."

Revel clenched his fists, knowing he had to tread carefully. Damn, he hated dealing with Sith. His Sith was one of the only sane one he knew, and even she was chasing ghosts.

Wait. _His_ Sith?

"She's not my master," Revel said slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. The cantina was full of Sith. One wrong move and he'd be mowed down in a less than a heartbeat. _Where the hell was Denravi?_ "I'm not a slave."

Thana laughed, clearly not believing him. "I have something to discuss with you, slave or no slave," Thana said. "Follow me."

Denravi would owe him for this. The two of them should be having a drink, and then heading back to that quiet, private bunk she had been given simply for being Sith, where they could have a quick fuck before getting some sleep. "Yes, my lord," Revel said, refusing to let the venom he felt towards Thana be heard in his voice. He needed to live through this encounter for no other reason than to yell at Denravi.

Thana led him to a corner of the cantina. He made sure his back was to the wall, so he could see the entire cantina, including the entrance. The moment Denravi stepped inside, he wanted to know. "I have… a proposition," Thana said.

Itching to feel his blasters in his hands, Revel instead crossed his arms over his chest. "What?" he asked, trying to think of what this woman could possibly want with him.

"How much would it cost for you to kill her?" Thana asked casually.

"I'm not an assassin," Revel said at once, which wasn't exactly true. In his seven years of captaining the Sky Princess, he had killed a couple of people for money. But no amount of credits would get him to kill Denravi. First, Khem Val or Zash or whoever it was now would kill him almost instantly. Second, he had a fairly good gig set up with Denravi. She paid him what he considered to be a generous stipend. He didn't have to worry about room and board, and she paid for almost all of his armor and weapons. And third… well, frankly, he liked her. They worked well together, especially in bed.

Why would he want to give all of that up just for credits?

"Everyone has a price," Thana said, narrowing her eyes. "I want yours."

Revel glanced at the entrance of the Cantina, to see Denravi walking into the cantina. Their eyes met and his shoulders slumped just slightly in relief, enough that Thana noticed.

She whipped her head around and Revel saw the bartender droid handing Denravi a drink. When Denravi glanced back at them, Thana grabbed Revel by the shoulders and forced a kiss on him.

Revel didn't flinch, he didn't move a single muscle and most certainly did not kiss her back as he waited for Thana to step away. When she finally did, Thana gave Denravi a smirk and then stalked out of the cantina.

Shaking his head, Revel walked back over to Denravi, who sat at the bar, two shot glasses in front of her. He stood next to her, leaning against the bar, invading her personal space a bit. She stared into the shot glass, like it held the answers to the universe.

The realization of how things must have looked like when she entered the Cantina slowly dawned on him. "I didn't fuck her," Revel said, keeping his voice quiet. A lot of women he knew would have stamped their feet and wrung their hands, seeing the guy they're sleeping with being kissed by another. If Denravi turned out to be one of those… Well, maybe he'd take off after they were done here on Taris.

Still not looking at him, Denravi pushed one of the shot glasses towards him. Alderaanian whiskey. His favorite. She met his gaze then. "I know."

"How do you know?" Revel challenged.

Denravi picked up her shot, some sort of light blue concoction and threw it back. Then turning to look at him, said, "Because you just told me," she said, her voice soft. She shrugged her shoulder. "Even if you had, it's not my business unless you want it to be." She gave him a wry smile. "You don't ever have to lie to me, pirate."

The tightening Revel began to feel in his chest relaxed a bit. She wasn't going to hound him like Casey or Anira, wondering where he spent his evenings or complain how much he spent on gadgets for his blasters. He wouldn't have to come up with half-truths or white lies to get through rocky patches. And if he looked at another woman or spent too much time by himself, it sounded like he wouldn't have to defend himself.

He could just be himself.

Funny how a little thing like that could make him feel like he was piloting a ship.

Like he was completely free.


	4. Jedi Consular, The Defender

**Class: **Jedi Consular

**When: **Episode III, before the Javelin

* * *

Felix leans against the doorway from the ship's bridge, waiting for the hallway to clear out. Zenith is speaking to one of the Voss commandos, discussing tactics. Once again Felix curses the designer of this ship, having the captain's cabin entrance right off of the main hallway. Any other boat, he could slip into his girlfriend's room without anyone being the wiser.

Sure, V'ryss told him to come and go as he pleases, saying she knows the Jedi Council will catch wind of their relationship sooner or later. Secrecy isn't the worth the effort, in her opinion. But as he watches Tharan walk from the conference room to the stairs leading to the lower levels, he wonders why invite trouble?

Finally Zenith and the commando leave the hallway and Felix grabs his chance and briskly walks to V'ryss's door. It opens at once, recognizing his biometrics and he enters, only to see V'ryss sitting at the edge of the bed, sobbing.

His heart constricts. Felix has seen her hurt, seen her upset, but he has never, _ever _seen her cry before. Part of him thought Jedi couldn't cry, though he knows that's foolish. Jedi feel every emotion under the sun, just don't let themselves be ruled by it.

"V'ryss?" he asks, his voice soft. He feels a moment of doubt, one he hopes disappears one of these days, and wonders if she's changed her mind, about him, about them. He forces the errant thought away. She loves him. Felix knows this. He refuses to doubt.

She sits up straight, a hand wiping away her tears. "Felix," she says, holding out her hand to him.

The sight of her blue skin next to his dark brown never ceases to amaze him. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. It's the hand she holds her Light Saber and he can feel the calluses on her fingertips. Gently, he brings her fingertips to his lips and gives them a kiss. The move works and she smiles, clutching the bundle of furs she holds in her lap.

During dark times, which happen more often than he cares to admit, Felix thinks of himself as tainted, thanks to the holocron of Sith knowledge in his head. But all V'ryss has to do is smile at him, that smile he's never seen directed anywhere but to him, and he knows he's not. She is the brightest thing in his life and he knows she will fight through star stuff to keep him safe. And he'll do the same for her.

He sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, glad he's wearing a BDU instead of his heavy armor. She relaxes against him at once and Felix holds her a little tighter, soaking her slightly elevated skin temperature. Kissing her temple, he whispers, "What's wrong?"

V'ryss lifts the fur she's holding. "This is," she says, her voice empty.

Felix reaches out and strokes the fur. It's not from an animal he recognizes, but in a galaxy as large as theirs, that's to be expected. "What is it?" he asks.

Resting her head on his shoulder, V'ryss says, "A Wookie pelt."

All Felix can do is blink. V'ryss hates hunting. It's the one major disagreement between them. There's nothing more relaxing to Felix than being in the wild looking for trophies. To V'ryss, hunting for sport is wasteful and makes a mockery of the Force. And yet she travels with a Trandoshan who considers V'ryss a Herald for his religion. Felix called her out on her hypocrisy once. They finally agreed to disagree before words were spoke that couldn't be taken back.

"Why do you have a Wookie pelt?" he asks. For a moment, he wonders if she meant to give it to him; she's given him gifts he'd considered trophies before, like that ID for that crime lord on Nar Shaddaa or the Krayt Dragon Pearl. But never something like a pelt.

"Qyzen gave it to me."

"Wait…" Felix trailed off and looked at V'ryss. He and Qyzen get along well and talk shop a lot during the long stretches of travel. From these conversations, Felix knows that giving someone a Wookie pelt like this is a romantic gesture for a Trandoshan, something you would only do for a mate.

Waving her hand, V'ryss says, "It's not what you think." She almost cracks a smile at that. "He gave it to me so I could give it to you."

"And the thought makes you cry?" Felix says, letting his voice deadpan a bit.

She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Now you're just being silly." Leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. Felix closes his eyes and kisses her back. For a moment, he doesn't think of anything except her. When V'ryss pulls away, she hugs the pelt to her chest. "I just keep thinking… This was a sentient creature at some point. They had hopes and dreams, maybe a family. What if they left a mate behind or children…" V'ryss flops back onto the bed and sighs. Times like this he remembers how young she really is. "And now this beautiful pelt represents a trophy instead of someone's _life."_

Felix lays beside her, on his side, running his hands through her hair. He can't keep the pelt, he know this. The last thing he wants to accept a gift that causes her so much pain. "There's an organization I know of," he says quietly. "For hunters. They take part of kills that a hunter can't use, like bone or fur or even extra meat, and gives them away to people in need."

Her red eyes light up slightly and he can tell her interest is piqued. Amazing how when he first was assigned to Hoth how he thought the only word he would ever use to describe Chiss eyes was 'creepy.' Now he can't think of another set of eyes as beautiful as hers. "This organization could use the pelt?"

He nods, enjoying the feeling of her hair between his fingers. She hardly ever wears it down, but she does, he needs to take advantage. "There's a lot they could do with a pelt this size. A blanket, lining for coats, hats, that sort of thing."

"Could we donate it?" she asks, grabbing his hand. "Please?" Her mouth opens to say something else but she stops. "Wait. This is a gift. A gift for you. If you want to keep-"

"We'll donate it," Felix says, in a voice he knows books no disagreement. Thought he must admit, part of him thrilled over saying the word 'we.' Even with everything the galaxy is throwing at them, they are together, and they are fighting for each other. She and he truly have become 'we.'

He's rewarded with a smile and a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you," she says softly. "I know Qyzen meant well and I try so hard to be tolerate, but sometimes…"

"He'll never have to know," Felix says, taking the pelt from her arms. Standing up, Felix folds the pelt respectfully and places it in the dresser drawer that has become his. "Now." Felix turns to face V'ryss and he sees the hungry look in her eyes, a look he's sure reflected in his own. "Perhaps we have some time so I can show you my gratitude for receiving such a gift?"

V'ryss's smile lights up her whole face and she reaches for him, even as she's lying on her back. Felix joins her on the bed and then the only gifts they think about for a time are the ones they can experience right here and right now.


	5. Sith Inquisitor, Act II Finale

**Class: **Sith Inquisitor

**When: **Act II Finale

* * *

And then he watched her die.

Denravi collapsed to the floor like a puppet cut loose from its strings. "Sith!" Revel called out, running over to her. He didn't think of his own safety, of the ghosts and visions and apparitions crawling around the place.

"Don't you dare be dead, Sith," Revel whispered, lifting her head off of the ground. Her body started convulsing slightly and he turned her to her side. While convulsions weren't good, they meant she wasn't dead. He'd take anything he could get. "I am not piloting your ship without you."

Think. He had to think. They were in Darth Thanaton's private chambers in the Citadel. The rest of her companions were back enjoying the hospitality of Dromund Kaas. Picking her up and taking her to a medical droid was not an option. The last thing she'd want is for anyone to know. Sith already looked down on her for being a former slave. They find out she has ghosts in her head? They'd be out for blood.

Drellik was the only option. Revel's hands felt clumsy at a time when he needed them to be steady, more than ever, as he grabbed his holocom. The reclamation officer was flighty, but Revel knew deep down, he was an officer. He'd rise to the occasion. Revel had seen it more than once happen in his Republic days.

Within seconds, Drellik appeared on the com. _Revel? I didn__'t expect-_

"Grab Ashara and Khem and get over here now," Revel spat out. "Denravi's in trouble."

Drellik looked down and his eyes widened, seeing her unconscious on the floor. _We__'ll leave at once._

The com cut off, leaving Revel alone with Denravi. The convulsions had stopped, and she still breathed. "Come on, Sith," he said, caressing her cheek. "Wake up."

Revel looked around. They were in the middle of a large room, perfect for someone to sneak up on them. As carefully as he could, Revel picked Denravi up, cradling her in his arms. With his foot, he kicked her lightsaber to the side of the room. She'd kill him if she knew how he treated her weapon, but she'd have to wake up first, wouldn't she?

Putting his back against the wall, so he could see the whole room, Revel slid down into a sitting position, Denravi still in his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and reached for his blaster. His blood cooled a bit, knowing he would be able to kill anyone who walked into the room.

Might take Drellik a good twenty minutes to get here, maybe less if Ashara could act like a Sith for once. They'd leave her alone in here if she simply acted like a Sith instead of a scared alien Padawan. So Revel would make sure to keep Denravi safe until Drellik got here.

"Why are you doing this to me, Sith?" Revel asked, his voice barely audible. He ran his fingers through her hair, smelling the lemon and sage scent she favored. "Every day I wake up, wondering if this is the day you push me over the edge."

His fingers tightened around his blaster. He'd feel better if he could have both out, but one would have to do. "And every day, all I have to do is look at your face and realize there is no edge," Revel said, holding her closer with his free arm. "See what happens when you let ghosts try to kill you? I get sentimental. You'll have to get me pretty damn drunk if you ever want me to say that to your face."

Taking solace in the steady sound of her breathing, Revel kissed her temple. "Funny how this is going down. How many outs have you given me, huh? And now you might be the one leaving me." He didn't even want to think about what lay ahead of them if she woke up. The ghosts in her head would slowly drive her mad before killing her outright. Revel tried to think of his life without her.

He came up empty.

"Damnit," Revel muttered, the reality of his feelings hitting him smack in the face. He loved her. Had for a while, most likely. Part of him wanted to say the words out loud, see how they felt on his tongue. But instead he'd keep them close, bury them a bit and see what sprouted when things finally came to light. "Damnit, Sith."

"Revel?"

Revel looked up, hearing Drellik call his name. Good thing he did. Mood he was in, he'd be tempted to shoot anything that moved. "Over here," he yelled, flinching at how his voice echoed in the large room.

Drellik already had out his medkit and started to work even before kneeling down next to Denravi. "What happened?" Drellik asked. "Here, lay her down."

Handling Denravi as carefully as he could, Revel lay her on the ground, taking extra care to make sure her head didn't hit the hard stone floor. Looking up, he saw Ashara and Zash – he could tell now it was Zash, thanks to its posture - guarding the stairs, making sure they had complete privacy.

He reached out his hand before he could stop himself, placing it on Drellik's forearm. The officer looked taken aback by the contact. "Fix her," Revel said, his voice as coarse as sand. "Fix her, please."

"I'll do my best," Drellik said with a crisp nod, before kneeling down next to Denravi.

Revel moved to talk to Ashara and Zash. He had no healing skills and would only get in the way of Drellik if he hovered. "What happened?" Ashara asked, her eyes full of concern.

"Ghosts overwhelmed her," Revel said, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're trying to take over, it sounded like."

Zash cocked her head. "Have her dreams gotten worse?"

Revel nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He never meant to betray Denravi's confidence by telling Zash about her dreams, but when she thrashed about in bed night after night, he just felt so damn _helpless._ "Every damn night, now."

"I have some ideas," Zash said. "Assuming she wakes up, there's research I'll need to do."

"I'll help," Ashara said, her voice soft. She bit at a thumb nail, looking always as worried as Revel felt. Ashara had gotten surprisingly attached to Denravi. He supposed it was some Force thing.

Revel looked at Denravi, laying completely still. Funny how she looked almost restful. "Anything, Drellik?" He walked over to them and squatted down. Her eyes moved behind their lids, but if that was a good sign or not, damned if he knew.

"She should wake soon."

Putting a hand over his mouth, Revel stared at the woman who managed to entwine herself into his soul without him even realizing. He _loved _her, and one day, he'd find the words to tell her.

He tried to picture the road ahead of them. Researching, looking for a sure to a disease which had no name and caused by ghost. But Revel would stay by her side through the worst of it. No doubt she would expect him to take off after this; a sane man would.

Good thing everyone always told him he was crazy.


End file.
